


The One with the Left Phalange

by elioolivercmbyntrash



Series: Elio & Oliver one shots [14]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Diarrhea, Flying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Plane, Sick Character, Sickfic, The Peach, Vomiting, Whump, age gap is smaller than cannon, also other differences to cannon, graphic ish descriptions of bodily fluids, left phalange, motion sick, nurse! oliver, peaches are mentioned but no fruits are actually fucked, sick! Elio, sleepy, stomach flu, upset stomach, what was phoebe talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elioolivercmbyntrash/pseuds/elioolivercmbyntrash
Summary: Elio gets sick on a flight from JFK to Milan. Now, Elio gets air sick so that has to be the reason he starts vomiting, right? Oliver doesn't agree.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Series: Elio & Oliver one shots [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720645
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	The One with the Left Phalange

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this fic so much oh my god. thank you to the person who gave me this prompt.
> 
> Characters don't belong to me.

Elio feels sick.

He can’t work out why, when he’s taken his tablets and is wearing his motion sickness bracelets. He’s also got a window seat by the wing of the plane, which has always helped. 

They are flying to Italy to spend a few weeks with Elio’s parents at the villa.They’re in business class, which Oliver always insists on booking due to having long legs - at least that’s his excuse, but they don’t need the excuse when they can afford to pay for comfort. It’s been a long semester for both of them, and neither plan on doing any work. 

Elio’s taking his composition book though, because he never goes anywhere without it, but he plans on composing for himself rather than for school. He’s looking forward to long afternoons lazing around by the pool, helping his mother to tend to her orchard, reading a book and transcribing music in heaven, and Mafalda’s food. 

Oliver’s taking a stack of novels that he plans to read, although he might help Professor Perlman with any correspondence he has for old time’s sake. Samuel Perlman doesn’t do as much work these days, as he’s nearing retirement. He’s also planning on drinking so much apricot juice that he turns into an apricot before they leave. When Elio mentioned that there’s a flaw in this plan, Oliver reminded him that he once fucked a peach, so he’d be able to manage fucking apricots just fine. Elio had then hit him with a pillow.

Oliver’s already fallen asleep, the sleeping pills having worked their magic. Elio pulls the comforter up to Oliver’s chin and tries to get himself comfortable.

Elio takes a sip of water, and pulls his knees up to his chest, closes his eyes and takes some deep breaths. He’s given up trying to watch a movie, and he’s tried reading but the words just jump off the page and swirl around. 

Elio’s tried ginger candy and peppermint tea. He’s tried closing his eyes and sleeping, but the sleeping pills aren’t strong enough for him. Or maybe they just haven’t worked because the thoughts in his head are loud. What if he pukes? What if he starts puking and can’t stop? What if the plane crashes and they both die and he never gets to hug his parents again, never gets to see them? What if there’s something wrong with a plane? What if it doesn’t have a left phalange? Or what if it has a left phalange, and there’s something wrong with it? What even is a left phalange?

Elio’s mouth begins to fill with saliva. He swallows, practices counting his breath so that he can ground himself, like his therapist encourages him to do when he’s anxious. His stomach does a somersault, and he’s overcome with an urge to bend over. He takes a deep breath through his nose, out through his mouth, and asks a passing flight attendant for a ginger beer. 

He takes a sip of the ginger beer, allowing the liquid to slip down his throat and warm his stomach.

Elio suddenly jerks forward, puts a hand to his mouth; he’s lost the battle. His throat burns as his stomach forces its contents up and out through his mouth. He tries to dig through the pocket on the side of the chair, but he can’t find a vomit bag. His left hand is covered in his stomach contents, and his stomach is still turning. He shakes Oliver with his right hand as he gags again, vomit pouring through his fingers and onto his sweater.

“Shit!” Oliver says. He finds a vomit bag in his chair pocket, opens it for Elio, but Elio’s done for now. 

“Oh honey. Go and get yourself washed up.” Oliver helps him to remove his sweater, and then removes his own sweater and hands it to Elio.

“I’m dizzy,” says Elio. He’s also not sure how he’s going to stand up using just one hand, when he’s still got puke all over the other hand. 

“I’ll help you.”

Elio leans into Oliver as he guides him to the bathroom. Elio washes his hands and rinses his face. He pukes into the toilet bowl. His tummy aches, and he’s shivering. This never happens when he gets motion sickness. When he gets motion sick, he feels woozy.

“Elio?” Oliver knocks on the door. “You OK?”

Elio flushes and washes his face again. His eyelids feel puffy and his whole body is heavy. “I just want to sleep,” he says, when he unlocks the door. 

Oliver tilts his head and surveys Elio, whose face is pale and clammy. He places a hand on Elio’s forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” Oliver says.”That doesn’t normally happen when you get motion sick.”

“It is air sickness. What else could it be?” Elio asks.

_ Stomach flu _ , Oliver thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it out loud.

They head back to their seats. Elio curls up into a foetal position and falls asleep while Oliver brushes a few strands of hair away from Elio’s eyes. He finds the pack of vomit bags in his carry on that he always has with him now whenever they go on long trips, just in case. He makes sure a couple are within easy reach for Elio, and settles down with a novel. He can’t sleep now, in case Elio needs to vomit again. 

Elio wakes up an hour or so later, and grabs the vomit bag that someone’s put out for him. He retches and chokes on a chunky piece of vomit trying to force its way up his esophagus. Oliver stirs ' he never meant to fall asleep - sits up and rubs Elio’s back in small circles. 

“Aw honey,” he says. “I know it’s horrible. Get it all out. You'll feel better when you're finished."

Elio trembles, his body drenched in a cold sweat. He's got vomit on the corner of his lip and on his chin. “How long until we land?”

“4 and half hours,” Oliver replies. “Are you done?”

Elio wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and nods.

“Have a sip of water, honey, and you need to take your - my - sweater off.” Elio’s body is giving off a lot of heat.

“I’m cold,” says Elio, shaking his head.

“You might feel cold, but you have got a fever, hon."

“I don’t.”

“You have got one. Trust me, I’m a doctor. Although you don’t need to be a doctor to work out that you’ve got one.”

“It’s just air sickness,” says Elio.

“I don’t think it is, sweetheart,” says Oliver. 

Elio opens his mouth, but before he can say anything he gags. Oliver shoves a vomit bag in front of Elio, and Oliver tries to hold his breath. The acidic smell mixed with Elio's last meal and the ginger beer he's consumed is making Oliver feel a bit queasy, and the lack of fresh air on the plane isn't helping. 

"Yeah, I guess I've got a bug," says Elio. "I feel awful." 

"Take that sweater off, then close your eyes and sleep," says Oliver. "If you sleep we'll be in Milan before you know it."

Oliver strokes Elio's cheek as he drifts off to sleep, plants a kiss on his forehead, and closes his eyes.

*

Elio wakes and realises he needs to go to the bathroom, like right now. He throws the comforter off. "Oliver! I need to go to the bathroom. Can you move?" 

Oliver stretches. "Hmm?"

"I'll have to climb over you," says Elio. He squeezes his ass cheeks together, crawls over a flabbergasted Oliver, and sprints down the aisle. He finds the bathroom unoccupied and almost cries, locks himself in, sits just in time for his bowels to detonate hot liquid into the bowl. At the same time, his stomach decides to empty. Elio tries to reach the sink but he misses, the force of it hitting the wall. Elio bursts into tears. 

"Elio? Honey, you've been a while. Are you alright?"

"No," Elio whimpers. "I've puked and shat at the same time and I don't know what to do." 

"Let me see if I can help."

"No. It smells so bad you'll puke."

"OK. If you're not going to let me in, just do the best you can. You can't help it."

"This is the worst plane journey ever." 

*

"What if I never stop throwing up?"

"You will," says Oliver. "Your body just needs to get rid of whatever's making you sick."

Elio grips his seat as the plane comes into land.

*

It's 9am in Milan by the time they've landed, and Elio is exhausted and still sick. He almost collapses into Annella when they meet his parents at arrivals.

"Sweetheart?" Annella says. "What's wrong?"

"He's sick, " says Oliver, pulling himself away from Samuel’s embrace. "Not air sick, but stomach flu sick. It was a nightmare flight."

"Oh,  _ piccino _ ," says Annella.

"Poor Elly Belly," says Samuel. "Let's get going. I expect you just want to sleep."

Elio rubs his eyes with his hands and Oliver’s heart bursts; how can he still have such childish habits as an adult? 

Annella places a hand on Elio’s forehead. “You still have a fever,” she says. 

*

Elio vomits into a bin in the parking lot, and falls asleep with his head on Oliver’s shoulder once they are in the car, while Oliver caresses Elio’s arm. He prays that Elio’s body is so spent from vomiting that it won’t overwhelm him with motion sickness.

His prayers go unanswered.

Elio jumps awake. “I’m going to throw up,” he grumbles. 

“It’s OK,” says Oliver. He hands Elio a vomit bag, and rubs his back.

“Poor  _ bambino _ ,” says Annella. “We’re almost home.”

*

“Elio, you don’t look well,” Mafalda says, when they finally arrive at the villa. She cups his face with her hands and examines his face.

“I’m not,” he says.

“He’s been vomiting,” explains Oliver. 

“Go and get some sleep,  _ piccino _ ,” Annella says, kissing her son. “The room’s all set up for you. Oliver, I’m going to make apricot juice, will you have some?”

“Oh, yes please, Mrs P,” says Oliver. “I’ll just make sure Elio gets settled, then I’ll be down.”

“I’ve also got some slides to look at, if you’d like,” says Samuel. 

“You know I cannot resist that, Pro,” says Oliver. He makes his way upstairs.

Elio’s slumped on the bed, falling asleep sitting up.

“Come on, baby,” says Oliver. “I think you’ll feel much better if you have a wash before you go to sleep.”

He helps Elio to undress, and prepares a basin of warm soapy water so that he can give Elio a sponge bath. Elio lies on the bed, almost comatose, while Oliver tenderly washes Elio with a knitted washcloth. He dips the washcloth in, wrings it of excess water, and washes Elio’s face, then neck, and works his way down Elio’s body. 

“Thank you,” says Elio, as Oliver pats him dry with a towel.

“We can have a proper bath later, when you’re feeling a bit more human,” says Oliver. He helps Elio dress, and they rub noses. “Get some sleep, honey.” 

Oliver places a wastepaper basket next to the bed, just in case. Elio’s already fallen asleep. He smiles, because Elio looks so tranquil at last. Oliver heads off to get some apricot juice.

**Author's Note:**

> comments, likes and prompts feed my muse


End file.
